


Angel

by temptresslove



Series: Power Couple [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark Harry Potter, F/M, M/M, Political Tom Riddle, Power Couple, Pureblood Harry Potter, With plans for world domination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptresslove/pseuds/temptresslove
Summary: An angel by the name of Harry Potter shows up in Auror Ron Weasley's office, claiming that it was indeed not Tom Marvolo Riddle who murdered the Minister.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Power Couple [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264598
Comments: 56
Kudos: 985





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Please be reminded that I chose not to use archive warnings.

Ron’s jaw dropped as an angel appeared before him. 

“Mr. Weasley?” The angel asks. His eyes were big and green, looking at Ron’s in complete distress. He was dressed in luxurious silk, all white like a bride, small intricate leaves were embroidered at his neckline and sleeves. Upon his head, was one of the most extravagant hats Ron has seen—big and expensive, decorated with white roses, a small veil pulled up—the very kind young ladies fancied but never could afford. He was obviously high-born. What was the omega doing in a mere auror’s desk? He was biting his lip worriedly, taking off his white gloves distractedly as he sat down in front of Ron’s desk. “My name is Harry Potter.”

The name rings familiar in Ron’s ears. “Good afternoon, Mister Potter.” Ron tries to place him. “How may I be of service to you this fine afternoon?”

The omega looks more distressed, avoiding the auror’s eyes. He was wringing his hands nervously, small, pale and slender—like his entire person. Ron waits patiently for whatever the omega had to say. From experience, Ron knew it would be no good to rush him. 

Suddenly the omega looks up, eyes wide. “W-Will my identity be protected if I-I report a crime?”

“Yes, Mister Potter,” Ron assures him. “Your name will be protected.”

The omega exhales in obvious relief, yet in his eyes there was still some hesitation. 

Ron clears his throat. “I swear it on my honor.”

The omega slowly turn his body towards him, child-like eyes peering straight at his, looking incredibly vulnerable that Ron felt the need to fight whoever made the omega feel this way. “I-I know who killed Minister Fudge.”

Everyone in the office looks in their direction.

Ron gulps. Well, no one knew who really killed the Minister. But the only suspect was Tom Riddle, whose magic signature was the only one found in the crime scene.

“M-Mister Riddle didn’t kill him.” Harry hiccups, trying very hard not to cry, preserving his omega dignity even in the face of distress.

“It’s okay, Mister Potter,” Ron assures him. “You can speak without fear. I will protect you.”

With that the omega smiles, and Ron finds that he means it. He will protect this brave omega with his life. “It—“ The omega hesitates, and then he looks Ron in the eyes, about to cry. “It was Lady Fleur Delcour, sir.” The omega’s eyes finally tear up. “Fleur Delacour killed Minister Fudge.”

“Lady Delacour?!” Ron almost screamed. “Lady Delacour killed the Minister?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I ever uttered a word,” Harry starts sobbing. “She—she is—oh, you must not believe me when I say it, she is ever so perfect in everyone’s eyes! That’s why I—That’s why I—“ He whimpers, delicately covering his mouth with hand, tears falling down his face. “That’s why I was so scared be—because I thought no one would believe me.”

“Well, Mister Potter, Lady Fleur is—“

“ _A venomous snake_ ,” Harry hisses. 

Ron blinks. 

Harry sniffles. 

Did he imagine the flash in the omega’s eyes? 

“I watched, Mr. Weasley, sir, she was right beside him during the Ministry Ball. She was a bit… fidgety that night, and I thought, maybe she is just so nervous sitting close to the Minister like that. But when the desserts were served, I saw it plain as day, she took out a little bottle, a small the size of my thumb,” Harry raises his thumb and Ron agreed that it was indeed a very little thumb. “In one swift motion, she put a drop on the Minister’s drink—it was fast, I could barely believe it happened. But it did. The next thing I knew people were screaming and the minister—“ Harry stopped, face in pain, forcing himself to relive the tale again even if it was so horrible. “The minister was dead.”

“Mister Potter,” Ron says in shock. “If what you say is true, then—“ Suddenly Harry leans in closer, the low cut of his neckline suddenly very visible to Ron. He could see a whole lot of Harry’s pale chest.

“I-I thought I should not say anything,” The omega says voice small, lips parting, so close to Ron. The auror gulps. “But I could not bear to see an innocent man hang for a crime he did not commit.” The omega eyes were shining from his tears. “My conscience cannot take it, sir.” The omega whispers. 

Ron feels as if he is privy to a most holy secret.

Tom Marvolo Riddle _was_ a man of principle, there was no question. The man has been nothing but contributing for the good of the wizarding world. He has authored a dozen new laws and had fought for orphan’s rights.

But his French fiancee was a mystery. Ron remembers guarding one of the many ministry balls. The French woman was nothing but polite, a seductive glint always present in her eyes, dressed in heavenly blue like a saint. She was said to have come from a respectable family in France.

“But why would she—“

The omega fidgets, he opens his mouth, he hesitates. 

“Please do not be scared to say more.” Ron says warmly, assuring him as best as he could. The omega nods, a newfound bravery on his face.

“I do know Lady Delacour,” he begins carefully. “My fiancé, see, is French. I’ve lived some years in Paris. She is…” Harry struggles to find the right words. “I do not know another word for it,” Harry says apologetically. “She is _greedy_.” He leans in closer. “Their family has been suffering, _financially._ There is nothing for her but shame in France, especially since she’s always been cruel to all of her fellow nobles, believing herself to be invincible. But money and power ran out.  But here… she knew that the noble families of England would know of her so she set her sights on the next best thing—the Minister, though he was married. She was rejected, of course. But she would not give up, and she set her claws on poor unsuspecting Tom Riddle, who we all know will succeed the Minister after he’s retired… but she is impatient and spiteful. She wants power _now_ and she would not have forgotten the rejection from a fat man—I mean Minister Fudge.” He looks away, looking forlorn. “I guess what she did not expect was for Tom to be blamed for her crimes.”

It was true that there were _rumors_ about the French woman. But Tom Riddle also did have some _disturbing_ —

“And Tom,” the omega says softly, lowering his eyes. “Tom could not harm a fly.”

“Then we must find out the truth,” Ron says, surprising himself without how firm he sounded, unwilling to disappoint the omega. “We will start the investigation right away. Rest assured that I will take care of this personally,” Ron huffs his chest. “You need not worry from here, Mister Potter.”

Harry reaches out and takes his hand. Ron's eyes widen.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” he says sweetly, batting his eyes slowly. “I knew it was the right decision to come to you.”

Only when the omega left did Ron realize why he was so familiar.

The omega has graced a number of magazine covers that his little sister obsessively collected through the years.

* * *

Harry closes the door behind him.

He wipes the tears from his eyes. His eyes turn cold and his lips tighten.

Did aurors not have the budget and the _magic_ to keep their office _clean_? His skin was still crawling from the dust he saw floating in the air.

It was a good thing that the auror Harry talked to was as dumb as he looked or it never would have been worth it. He will _never_ set foot in that office again.

In one clean stroke, he’s rid Tom of his awful fiancée and paved the way for himself to be closer to him. Harry smirks, posture slowly returning to its natural state—back long and proud, neck extended. 

He pulls down his little white veil, glad that everything went according to plan.

Tom Riddle owed him _big time_.

* * *

“Your wards are _weak._ ”

Tom stills, finding Harry Potter seated on his living room as if he owned the place. He was dressed in rich white robes, an elaborate white hat carefully set beside him.

_“Potter,”_ he says, malice in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah,” Harry says extending his legs luxuriously, stretching like a cat. “I go all these lengths to save you, and this is what I receive in gratitude?”

“For what?” Tom asks, though he already knew. Harry’s voice… when it was like that.

“Saving your pretty little neck.” He rises from the seat, a snake ready to strike. Elegant. Deadly.

The omega tilts his head, the sudden act of submission making the alpha in want to _take,_ the sudden smell making him want to—Tom steps back. 

“Don’t you want a kiss, _Alpha_?”

“I have a fiancée.” The words come carefully practiced. Tom’s said them a thousand times in front of other people.

“What of her?” Harry asks, blinking innocently, green eyes bright even in the night. “She _framed_ you.” he whispers seductively, warm breath tickling Tom’s lips with temptation. 

“ _Someone_ is framing me,” Tom corrects him, eyes on his lips. Tom’s mind races as he thinks of all the people who might carry a grudge against him. “But it’s not her.”

The flash in Harry’s eyes is unmistakeable. “She’s going to die soon.” Harry says scathingly. “I’ll give myself as witness—“

“No,” Tom says, shaking his head. “It's not her. Someone else is—“

“Why do you care so much if she should die?” Comes Harry’s anger. “She is _no one_ —“

“Harry,” Tom says coldly. “We cannot kill anyone who you fancy to ki—“

“I will kill her myself if you don’t,” Harry hisses. “You are _mine_! No one else has the right to—“

“You dare talk about Fleur when your French viscount’s smell is all over you?” Tom says, voice dangerously low. “I did not even know who you were when I entered my house. I should _murder_ him for daring to touch you.” Then he takes a step forward, hand wrapped around Harry’s throat. Harry’s knees weaken. “I should _knot_ your right now to remind you who you belong to.“

It’s the sudden innocence his omega displays—the pink tint that fills his cheek, the lowering of his eyes, and the shy clasping of his hands—so different from the delicate elegant pureblood facade he always wore. Harry always looked innocent, but that has never been true. Underneath those pretty eyelashes and angelic face, was a monster just as cruel as Tom.

But when Tom’s alpha bared itself so did Harry’s omega… Harry blushes and he cannot meet Tom’s eyes. He looks so pure, so open, so _virginal._ Like an entirely different person whose hands have never been tainted with blood.

Harry wished that it was all an act, but that’s what the alpha did to him. Made him helpless, desperate, _weak._ A feeling that he has fought all his life, and fought harder when he met Tom. But Harry has found that it was worth it, to feel like this, to _surrender_ to that instinct, liked it all the more _because_ when it was the alpha who made him so. Never in his life was he more glad to be an omega than when he was with Tom.

“I’m sorry, _Alpha,_ ” Harry says, willing to do whatever it takes to please the alpha, baring his neck. “I should have—“

Harry gasps as Tom’s hand was replaced with his nose, nuzzling and scenting him.

“You could have died today because your fiancee was incompetent.” Harry says, an edge in his voice, willing himself to stay strong despite the tingle in his neck.

“And where _is_ your fiancé, _Omega_?” Tom kisses his scent gland. It does the trick. Harry’s pupils dilate. It’s been too long. They are both hungry.

“Where he should be.”

Ah, so he was still in France. The old viscount was growing weaker and weaker with the muggle poison Harry has been feeding him. All they needed were supporters from France when Tom finally extends his hold. Harry was to marry into their nobility to gain their trust and support.

They’ve planned it for years.

“Do you wish me to kill him?” Tom asks seriously.

“Yes,” Harry whispers even though they can't. Not yet. It still wasn't time. “I can’t wait to be your wife, Tom. You know it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And all of Britain.”

Harry laughs. “You and all of Britain,” he confirms, unable to stop the smile at his lips.

“ _My soul_ ,” Tom calls him. A pet name Harry knows is the best of them all. There was nothing more important to Tom than his immortal soul.

“ _My heart_ ,” Harry says right back, in a daze, already taking a step towards Tom. Tom opens his arms and the omega all but melts in him. Tom does not like Harry’s smell. He still smelled like him, that old viscount; Tom growls and _licks_ the omega, scents him until all that is left is Tom’s scent, until no one could tell them apart. 

The omega is purring and Tom can suddenly smell it. 

_Slick._

Underneath all that virginal white. _Slick._ They haven’t done it for too long, years. But a necessary precaution. “T-Tom,” the omega moans. “I w-want—I need—“ He gasps as Tom nibbles at his glands. “ _Knot,_ Tom, _please_. _Knot me._ ”

It still wasn’t the time and yet, Tom’s cock was responding to the omega’s pleas, jerking against his abdomen when all the omega has done was beg for him.

“We still have work to do.”

Harry whines in protest but knows Tom is right. Harry would come multiple times before Tom would, and even then his knot wouldn’t form yet. And they were both so hungry for it that neither will just be satisfied with a few orgasms. Harry needed Tom’s knot, and Tom needed to knot the omega. And even after that Harry knew he would want more. 

They didn’t have time.

Now was crucial to save Tom’s reputation.

“The masses are clamoring for your release.” Harry informs him, willing to forget the lust he felt. “They do not believe the charges against you.”

“They are smarter than the ministry gives them credit for.” Tom says. He feels Harry wrap his arms around the alpha’s torso, and just like that Tom’s strength leaves him. He was tired. He’d been imprisoned in the ministry dungeons awaiting trial and, he’d been playing this game for too long just to be Minister. Sacrificing even Harry for his dreams, and his darling omega following his every order blindly.

“Rest, my love.” Harry whispers in his ear as Tom buries his face in the omega’s neck. He was so small, so short, and yet, this tiny omega was exactly the only thing Tom needed in times like this. 

How did they stand to be apart for two years?

* * *

Harry rubs the alpha’s back, knowing this was the only time the alpha ever showed weakness. He’d just come home from a small, dingy cell, thrown in no doubt by his political enemies the moment he was declared the only suspect for the minister’s death.

Tom pulls away from him, always so fast in taking comfort when Harry would not even judge him for it. 

But he was Tom Riddle.

He was unshakeable. Perfect.

“Thank you,” Tom breathes, looking into Harry’s eyes.

Harry feels his chest tighten. How was it possible for a man who has murdered dozens to look like _this_? And how was this man Harry’s? “Anything for you, my love.”

“And anything for you.” Tom repeats, kissing him lightly on his lips.

They think of all the possible witches and wizards who might have framed Tom.

Harry had returned again to London the moment he heard that it was his alpha being blamed for the murder, squeezing out information anywhere he could, piecing the puzzle together, trying hard to remember the night they dined with the minister.

But there was no one else to pin the crime to but Fleur, the poor girl. Harry knew she was honestly in love with Tom, but Harry needed to do what he had to do for his alpha. They’ve planned this for too long. Tom’s hardwork couldn’t just be undone by framing him with murder.

Harry would rather throw himself in the gallows in Tom’s place than see his hardwork crumble.

It certainly wasn’t because Fleur was the first omega other than Harry to hold Tom like that, kiss him even. She wore Tom’s engagement ring when Harry had to wait. She was going to be set aside anyway. It might as well be now.

Someone had to hang for Tom Riddle’s alleged crime.

Harry would rather it be Fleur Delacour.

**Author's Note:**

> HOHOHOHO Bet you weren't expecting something to published today!!!! Sksksksk Hope you like this as much as i liked writing it! Hehe, did y'all notice the sudden shift from Tom's POV to Harry's? HAHAHA
> 
> HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS THOUGH! THOUGHTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME IN THE FORM OF COMMENTS HAHAHAHA LOVE YOU ALL
> 
> (For those who are confused by Saint Riddle's lack of chapters... yes, I did go crazy and delete them. Because I was having a panic attack about it not being good enough lol so I read it and realized... its not as bad as I thought it was and I was being Paranoid™. SKSKSKS. Still!! I'll try to improve it. You can check out an [art of Saint Riddle](https://temptresslove.tumblr.com/post/626249182873796608/my-amazing-talented-friend-aliza-made-an-art-out) as drawn by my amazingly talented friend Aliza in my [Tumblr](www.temptresslove.tumblr.com)!!!!!)


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